Disaster's Child
by Ryuka
Summary: A young Absol is plagued with terrible visions of a disastrous future. As the apparitions grow worse, she falls deeper and deeper into despair. Desperate measure will be needed before she begins to want to live again.
1. Hobi

  **Author's notes**: Hello. Just in case you were wondering (you probably weren't) I'm new here; as a writer, at least. This is the first story I've ever posted, so try not to be too disappointed in me. I like support, but if you have any suggestions that would make my writing better, I would really appreciate them.

     Well, here's my story. I hope you enjoy it. The idea for it just sort of popped into my head when I saw the pokedex entry for Absol. It starts out sad, but it gets better…eventually.

     Just so you know, this is in the point of view of the main character, who is an Absol. The bits inside these ~ ~ are her remembering.

     **Hurray!** Look, now I have bold and italics! My eternal thanks to Erriel for her exceptionally helpful e-mail.

     Disclaimer: If you think I own Pokemon, you obviously don't understand the concept of fanfiction.

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     I remember my first vision clearly. I was only a pup then, still getting used to the world outside the den. I had a brother then, too.

     ~ _I watched silently as my older brother prepared himself for his first solo hunt. My parents stood nearby, looking pleased and proud._

_     "Don't go, Hobi," I said in my small voice. "It isn't worth it."_

_     My brother laughed merrily. "It isn't worth what, little sister?"_

_     "Getting killed," I answered solemnly._

_     He stared at me, his laughter gone. "Is that supposed to be a joke, little sister?"_

_     "No. Please don't go, Hobi," I pleaded with him. "You won't come back."_

_     He looked down at me, and gave me a half-smile. "Silly puppy. What could possibly happen?"_

_     Images of his torn and mangled body lying at the feet of a triumphant Scyther flashed again through my mind, but I did not voice those thoughts.  Already, young though I was, I knew that no one would believe in my vision. "Please don't go, Hobi," I repeated instead._

_     My mother hushed me impatiently and told me to go back inside the den. But I didn't go. I wanted one last look at my brother._

_     "Goodbye, Hobi," I whispered as he trotted off into the brush. Tears filled my eyes as I realized that I would never see him again. Then my father swatted my backside for being disobedient, and ordered me into the den. I went this time, and huddled in the corner all the rest of that day, weeping silent tears of sorrow._ ~

     My brother never came home that night. My parents went to look for him the next morning, and discovered his lifeless body in a small gully, sliced through with Scyther blades.

     'Coincidence,' they said through their tears, but I knew that it was not. I had received the vision in a sort of waking dream nearly half a day before he had set out on his hunt. I met my parents dry-eyed, having cried myself out the night before, and heard their terrible news with a knowing nod.

     That was when they gave me my name. Sanji. Calamity. It was not my birth name, I think, but I cannot now remember what my birth name was. And there is no one left now to tell me.


	2. The Hunt

     Wow, that last chapter was really short. It looked a lot longer on paper than it did on the computer. I'm afraid the chapters don't get much longer.

     Oh, and it helps if you read this kind of slowly, instead of rushing through it. It makes the story a wee bit more interesting.

     Hurrah! I got my first review ever! * _throws confetti and twirls noisemaker *_ Paradox Paradox, you have just become my favorite person. I hope you like the rest.

     I'm not going to do another disclaimer. Once is plenty, I think.

     Again, any comments or suggestions on how to improve my writing will be greatly appreciated.        

     So, without further ado, the second chapter.

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      My second vision was much worse. There were nearly nine months between my brother's death and this second waking dream. I had had many other visions by this time, but they were small, and did not tell of death, so I did not count them.

     At times, my apparitions even came in handy. I could warn my parents if they were about to step into a hole, for example, or if a tree branch was about to fall. Once, I even managed to get them outside just before our den collapsed from a heavy rainfall.

     Around myself, however, was a curious blank spot. I had no warning when I tripped over a loose rock and tumbled into a ravine, breaking my leg in the process. Or when a tree branch collapsed beneath me, giving me a deep cut along one cheek, which eventually faded into a thin white scar.

     My parents marveled that I could be so incredibly clumsy, when I had such quick eyes and ears. I had learned to disguise my visions, you see. My mother and father would not believe me if I told them I had seen the misfortune in a dream, no matter how accurately I predicted it.

     Perhaps they did not believe because they did not want to accept the fact that they could have stopped Hobi from going on his fateful hunt, if only they had listened to me. 

     Whatever the reason, I continued to disguise my visions in more everyday garb: I had seen the hole when I'd passed this way before; I'd heard the crack of the branch just before it broke. But I knew of no way to disguise that second vision of death.

     ~ _"We should stay inside the den today," I told my parents one bright and sunny morning._

_     "Nonsense, Sanji," they said. "It's a beautiful day. Perfect for hunting. If you ate too much last night and made yourself ill, well, you should have known better."_

_     But I did not feel ill at all, only frightened. "There are humans about," I told them, trying to get them to reconsider._

_     They looked at me curiously. "Now how do you know that?"_

_     "I can smell them," I said desperately, knowing that they would not believe that I had seen both of them in a dream, yesterday afternoon, lying dead at the feet of two human men with guns on their shoulders._

_     My parents lifted their noses to the breeze, but of course they could smell nothing. My father shook his head at me in exasperation, and he and my mother began to head out._

_      "_Please_," I begged, darting around to stand before them. "I don't want you to end up like Hobi."_

_     "Now that's enough," my mother snapped, then seemed to relent. "You stay here, baby, if you don't feel well." She nuzzled my cheek tenderly._

_     "We'll be back in a few hours," my father assured me._

_     I shook my head, tears stating in my eyes as they pushed past me. They would not be back, I knew, but I was afraid to go with them. I had not seen myself in that vision, but that meant nothing. I had never seen my own future, only the misfortunes of others._

_     I hastily shook the moisture from my eyes, frowning. I did not want to go with them, but I could follow them; see if there was something I could do to avert the terrible future I had seen._

_      I trailed them for over two hours, at a little distance. I don't think they knew I was there, but I can never be sure._

_     All at once, I heard the click of two guns being cocked. The dream flashed through my mind once more._

_      "Mama! Daddy!" I screamed, reverting to the child names I had not used for months._

_     They turned their heads toward me, but it was too late. I shrieked as two explosions tore through the air. My mother and father were flung sideways from the force of the bullets, both of them dead before they even hit the ground._

_     I huddled in the bushes, shuddering and weeping quietly, as the hunters examined their kill, commenting on the price the pelts would bring. _~

     I waited there until the hunters had gathered up my parents' bodies and left, then I ran. It didn't much matter where to. I just ran, trying to shake the visions, both real and foreshadowing, from my head.

     It had indeed been a day perfect for hunting, as my parents had said.


	3. Loss

      Wow. People actually like my story. I'm honored, guys, I really am. But . . . I think I may have misled you a little. Unintentionally. You see, I didn't quite mean that this was the first story I've _written_, only that it's the first story I've ever posted. My stories usually don't turn out very well, so I'm generally too cowardly to show anyone. But I kind of like this one, so I decided to post it.

      Anyway, I'm really sorry for that little confusion.

      Also, I do know that the chapters are short (and I have to warn you that there are some _extremely_ short chapters coming up) but I don't think I can change them. I mean, I _could_, of course, it is my story, after all, but the way I have them now is just sort of the way they fall naturally. If I combined them, I think it might take away a little of the drama of the story, so I'm afraid I'll have to leave them short. Sorry again.

      Thank you, Erriel, for telling me about Microsoft Word. Unfortunately, * rubs back of head and laughs nervously * I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm really not a computer person, and besides that, I'm kind of dense. I suppose I'll just have to ask someone who can show me how. Anyway, I apologize for the inconvenience.

     And thank you, thank you, thank you to all those that gave me a review. You have no idea how happy they made me.

     Enough of my blabbering. Here's chapter three. (These {} {} mean a jump in time.)

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     For nearly a week afterward, I had wandered aimlessly, going where my feet led me, and eating only when it was absolutely necessary. At last, a tribe of Eevees found me and took me in, and their constant cheerfulness and blithe confidence began to heal my heart.

     But the curse of visions was never far from me.

     ~ _I had been jumpy and uneasy all day, even before the waking dream came. It was even earlier than my parents' vision this time. It seemed that the worse the tragedy was, the sooner the illusion came. And this one was awful. Before sunset tomorrow, four of my Eevee friends would die, and six more would be wounded._

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_     The next day dawned clear, but gray. I paced the length of the shelter of brush where we stayed, trying to work out what I should do._

_     Would the tribe believe my warning? No one ever had so far, but I had to try at least. My mind made up, I hurried to where the leader of the Eevee tribe relaxed with his family._

_     "We should stay away from the high meadow today," I told him. His daughter, Beri, came to lay between my front paws, examining my claws in curiosity. I smiled down at her as the lead Eevee thought my words over._

_     "And why is it that we should abandon our chief play area?" he asked finally, looking up at me._

_     "There is danger there," I said. "Fearow. Two of them."_

_      The leader thought this over for a few moments more, but apparently found no reason to disbelieve me. "Very well," he said, nodding. "I will tell my people to stay in the forest and the lower meadows today."_

_     I smiled, hugely relieved, and with a final pat to Beri's small head, I trotted off to my bed of leaves. I had not gotten much sleep last night, worrying as I had over the dream. But it was all right now; everything would be taken care of. The vision, this time, would be averted._

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_      I awoke from my nap into a bewildering silence. It was never quiet here, unless it was the dead of night. I raised my head and peered around. I was utterly alone. Where had everyone gone?_

_     I got up, feeling uneasy, and went to find the tribe. I looked in each of the forest clearings they were fond of, but when I found no one, I went on to the lower meadows. The Eevees were nowhere to be seen._

_     With each place I checked without success, I became more frantic . . . and more certain that something had gone wrong._

_     I glanced up at the sun. It was nearly sunset. I had to find them soon._

_     At last, I caught a faint sound from the direction of the high meadow. 'He wouldn't,' I thought, horrified._

_     I hurried toward the noises, and it was soon evident that the tribe – the entire tribe – was in the high meadow._

_     'But I _told _him,' I thought furiously. 'He _promised _me that he would keep them away!'_

_     I hastened my steps even more, until I was dashing toward the high meadow at full speed. It was almost sunset. I had to get there!_

_     'The _fool_,' I raged as the hill of the meadow came into view. 'That witless _fool_!' Every Eevee was indeed on the high meadow, all of them performing some sort of chaotic dance. Either the leader had never told them of my warning, or they had forgotten. They were silly beasts, and had difficulty retaining an idea for any length of time. To this day, I do not know whether all Eevees are this way, or if it is only that one tribe._

_     Despite my desperate speed, I heard the hunting screeches of two Fearow just as I reached the foot of the slope. I saw the silhouettes of the two birds begin to stoop as I raced up the hill. And then came the most horrible sound I had ever heard: the scream of a dying Eevee._

_      The entire tribe began to shriek and scatter, and I had to force my way up through the panicked crowds. By the time I made it to the top of the hill, the two Fearow were already taking off, a dead Eevee clutched in each claw._

_     I leaped at the Fearow, snarling and snapping, but they were too high to reach. They soared off into the darkening sky with their prey, and Beri – dear, sweet, curious little Beri – was gone forever. _~

     I left the next morning. The leader asked me to go.

     "This is the most terrible tragedy that has ever befallen us," he told me through his pain and grief. He shifted to ease the pressure on the deep cut in his flank. He had been one of those wounded while trying to protect the four that were taken. "I have lost my daughter, the hope of our tribe." He shifted again and looked away. "If other such misfortunes are to fall upon us," he said, "I, and the others, prefer not to know about it beforehand."

     I was tempted to say that I had warned him, but I did not. He was in mourning, even as I was. I had loved little Beri dearly, as if she were my own flesh and blood, and the loss of her reopened the tear in my heart, which the Eevees had begun to mend.

     So I only nodded, and quietly departed from their territory.


	4. Queenclaw

     Hmmm. You're right, Erriel. It is sort of like Cassandra. I didn't even think of that. And me with my obsessive devotion to myths and legends. For shame.

     Anyway, here's the fourth chapter. It was originally going to be two separate ones, but when I looked back at it, I realized that it could be combined.

     (Ten whole reviews! Hurrah! Reviewers are my most favorite people in the world. I expect I should try a little harder to be like them.)

     {Hmm. "Most favorite"? Does that sound right? It looks a little weird.}

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     Once again, I began to range the forest, going in whatever direction I took a mind to, and sleeping in a different place every night.

     Finally, after nearly three weeks on my own, I stumbled upon a band of Sneasels, quite by accident. I blundered into their camp while they were napping.

     All of them leapt to their feet at once, and several of the strongest of them surged toward me, wrestling me to the ground. I put up no resistance to this rough treatment, and after a few moments, they brought me before their leader.

     When their ruler, Queenclaw, questioned me, I told her that I was a traveler, and petitioned to stay with them. I was starved for companionship, and with nothing to really occupy my time, I constantly dwelt on my visions, and what I might have done to prevent them from happening.

      After a long moment of thought, Queenclaw decided to grant my request, though I was never sure why she did so. She and her subjects were naturally suspicious Pokemon, and despised outsiders as a general rule. Nevertheless, Queenclaw and I became great friends, and, for a time, I was happy.

     But happiness cannot last forever.

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     My fourth vision of death was so awful, so horrifying and terrible, that even now I can hardly bear to remember it. This apparition came three days in advance of the actual event, and I came out of it screaming.

     ~_ Paying no attention to the bewildered stares of those around me, I rushed off to tell Queenclaw what I had seen, though by now I had nearly ceased to hope that my visions might be changed._

_     But perhaps this one last time . . . I thought to myself. After all, Queenclaw was my friend; I had told her of my visions. Whether or not she believed them, I wasn't sure, but she had never said that she _disbelieved_ them. She was my friend, I repeated silently. Surely she would listen. _~

     However, as I learned to my sorrow, no one wants to believe ill of those they love. I warned Queenclaw that, in three days time, her consort, Warblade, would betray her. He would lead a troop of rebels against her, attempting to take the leadership of the Sneasel clan for himself. The resulting battle would wipe out nearly every member of the band, including Queenclaw and Warblade, himself. Only a few Sneasels would be left alive to greet the dawn of the following day.

     I repeated my warning to Queenclaw again and again, but each time she steadfastly refused to accept it. It saddened me to know that her love for Warblade was so unwavering, so blindly devoted, that she could not see his true nature.

     When Queenclaw refused to heed my counsel, I spoke to everyone that I knew was loyal to her; anyone that I thought she might listen to, if not me. But so strong was their loyalty that they followed their queen without question. At other times, this unflagging devotion might have been admirable. As it was, I cursed their stubbornness.

     At last, despairing, I even confronted Warblade himself, perhaps to warn him of his imminent death, or perhaps to frighten him into abandoning his plot, because it was now known.

     Whatever the reason, it did not work, and if he was surprised that I knew of his plans, he did not show it. He swore persistently that he had no idea what I was talking about, and each speech or ploy that I tried was stonewalled by his insistence of his innocence.

     Eventually, I gave up trying to speak with him. It was doing no one any good, and I grew angrier with each moment that I spent with him. After I left Warblade, I half expected some sort of attack against me, but there was nothing. I was sure that he already knew that the queen refused to listen to me, and so I was not worth his attention.

     Time passed slowly, but it still seemed all too soon when the sun rose on that third day. That day I stuck close to Queenclaw, refusing to let her go anywhere on her own. Though I had no hope of averting the coming disaster, I would try my hardest to help my friend live through it.

     When the clash came, I fought well and hard, and I believe the rebels paid dearly for their attack on the queen. But in the end, it hardly mattered.

     ~ _At sundown, the battle was finally over. The forest was littered with the bodies of hundreds of Sneasels, Queenclaw among them. Yet there I lay, wounded, but not dead. Never dead. In truth, I almost wished for death; for a release from the horror I had seen, the pain I felt._

_     But instead I dragged myself up, looking sorrowfully over the bloody battlefield, and began to pick my way across the clearing. At the edge, the few surviving Sneasels huddled. There were only fifteen, all told, out of over seven hundred. Not even the smallest children had been spared._

_     As I neared the survivors, they bared their claws at me, most of them rough, and all of them bloodstained. "Leave us," they hissed. "We want no part with you. You bring ill fortune and death with you. Begone. Begone!"_

_     Startled, I did as they wished; I turned and ran, ignoring the deep wounds in my side and shoulder. But as I ran, I replayed their words over and over in my mind. Perhaps they were right. Perhaps I truly was a bringer of ill luck. It was true that I could not seem to escape the catastrophe that appeared to follow me._

_     But maybe it didn't really follow me. Perhaps I called disaster down on everyone I met. If this was the case, it would be better for me to stay away from everyone._

_     My visions of death had become progressively more terrible each time. If things kept on the way they were, I could, in time, conceivably foresee the destruction of all life on earth._

_     At last, no longer able to run, I collapsed to the ground, weeping in sorrow, pain, and frustration. I truly was becoming my name: Calamity._

_     I was, in every way, disaster's child. _~


	5. Wanderer

     Urgh. I'm kind of dissatisfied with the last chapter. I had to keep repeating myself, and I _hate_ doing that. But I simply _could not_ find better words for what I wanted to say. -_- Stupid thesaurus.

     Anyway, in response to Alex Warlorn's review: yes, she could have done that, but I think the idea is that by now she feels useless. She thinks that nothing she does will make any difference, but she goes on trying to protect those she loves because . . . well, because she loves them. (I guess I should have explained that a little better, huh?)

     Also, I think I may have been channeling "The Vision of Escaflowne" back there. Sorry.

     I apologize, as well, for this horrendously short chapter, but it doesn't seem to want to combine with any of the others. I give you fair warning, the next three chapters are nearly as short as this one.

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     Now, I wander, avoiding all life but the trees and plants. In fact, I head in the opposite direction from the one that the curse seems to wish me to go. This is often difficult, as there suddenly seems to be many directions that call to me. But by weaving an erratic path through forests and over fields, and by never staying in one place for more than a single night, I have so far avoided others.

     Because I see no one, the visions have at last stopped, but this brings no relief. A heaviness seems to weigh on me in all that I do, and it even feels a little odd without the dreams forever poking at my mind, demanding my attention.

     Every day I wake with the fear that I will meet another creature and the visions will return. Each day I grow a little lonelier, and a little thinner, as I, who am naturally a carnivore, attempt to survive on nothing but fruits and vegetables. Soon, I think, I may waste away to nothing at all, as Echo did in an old story my mother once told me.

     It is only right, I tell myself. You have been a curse since the day you were born. It is best that you simply fade away . . .


	6. Finding Hope

     You know what? I really don't have anything to say this time. (Oh. Except, Shadow Master Mal? Who exactly _is_ Maxie?)

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     I wake with a strange feeling building deep inside my chest. Something is different today. I sniff cautiously at the air, but catch no unusual scent. I cock my head and listen, but only the normal sounds of the forest reach my ears. I am only imagining things, I think as I get shakily to my feet. This is what happens when one has been alone for as long as I have been.

     I am beginning to grow weak from my constant diet of nuts and berries. I crave meat; hunger for the rich, warm taste of it, for the nutrients it gives. But I fear to hunt; dread the presence of another living being that might bring back the waking dreams. Perhaps I might even see my quarry's death, even as I barreled down upon it. By now, I doubt that I can summon the strength to chase anything.

     I stare down at the ground as I once again begin to walk, too weary even to lift my head. Today I pay no attention to which direction I go; too listless with hunger and loneliness to care anymore.

     Hearing a sudden noise, I jerk my head up – and find myself staring disbelievingly into the eyes of another Absol.

     Immediately, I drop to the ground, clapping my paws over my eyes. "No. Please. Go away," I wail to him. "I do not wish to see you. Leave me." Inwardly, I curse myself. How could I have been so stupid? Now the visions will return, and I will cause the death of this new Absol, who has done nothing to deserve it.

     "What's wrong?" a voice says, confusion lacing the words. "Are you all right?"

     No. I will not be his death. "Please," I beg the curse. "I do not see him. I do not hear him. There is no one here. Please do not touch him."

     "What?" the other Absol asks. "I don't understand."

     "I do not hear him," I whimper again, attempting to shut my ears to his voice. "There is no one."

     "Are you all right?" he repeats. "Are you hurt? Or ill?"

     I do not answer; try not to hear. But I cannot ignore his nose at my side, nudging me, willing me to get up. Instead, I roll weakly onto my side – too feeble even to keep upright beneath his gentle touch – and curl into a tight ball. I hear the Absol take a few steps back – surprised, I think, at my reaction – then nothing.

     After a long moment in which all is silent, I open my eyes, thinking that he has gone. But he is not. He sits right beside me, staring curiously down at my prone body. I cry out once more and squeeze my eyes tightly shut.

     "If you're in some kind of trouble," he says, "I can go get someone."

     "No!" I yelp, unable to ignore this. I open my eyes and stare up at him, knowing that it is already too late. Too late to pretend he isn't there; too late for him to live. "You mustn't bring anyone," I say. "No one. Ever."

     He shrugs as I sit up. "Very well," he says. "If that's the way you want it. Here." He picks up an object just beside him and drops it before my feet. I stare, surprised, at the body of a dead Rattata.

     "I caught it a little earlier," he tells me. "But you look like you need it more than I do." He stands and begins to walk away, then pauses. "Oh, by the way, my name is Kibo." Then he leaps into the bushes and is gone.

     I stare after him for a long moment, then bend to sink my teeth into the lifeless Rattata. Kibo is well named, I think. Despite my misgivings over his appearance, I suddenly and inexplicably feel more hope than I have in a long while.

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     For anyone that didn't catch that, "kibo" means "hope" in Japanese. (Or as near as I can come, anyway.) * cuddles Japanese dictionary *


	7. Changing Fate

Well, here's the second to last chapter. I hope you like it. Sorry about the delay. I couldn't get at the computer. Hopefully the next chapter will be out a little sooner. If not, it will be out next Thursday.  
To Erriel: In response to the "Escaflowne" reference, "Escaflowne" is about a girl named Hitomi who can see visions of the future. A bad future, where people die and cities blow up and such. Anyway, about halfway through the series, the characters start nattering on about how because Hitomi tries to see the future, she creates a terrible one. So, it sounds kind of like what's happening to Sanji. I didn't even see the similarities until I re-read the chapter for like the fifth time. (I would have answered that last time, but the chapter was already uploaded, and I didn't feel like typing it again.)  
  
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Kibo appears many times over the next few weeks. At first, I try to avoid him, but it is hard to do both that and to keep from going in the direction that the curse pushes me. And I think that now he tracks me down. Though I am still moving from place to place, Kibo seems always to be close behind. Weak as I am, I cannot outrun him.  
  
But I am now growing stronger, for each time Kibo comes, he brings food. Meat. I accept his offerings and eat gratefully, thanking him heartily each time, but I still refuse to hunt. Kibo does not know why, but he never asks an explanation. I am grateful for this, too.  
  
Gradually, we become friends, though I do not make the mistake of becoming comfortable, as I did with the Eevees, and with the Sneasels. I wait, dreading the coming vision of death. The small visions have already returned. Time and again I warn Kibo of pitfalls, loose rocks, and even, once, a human trap.  
  
Each time he praises my quick eyes, my sharp wits. Though I know I do not deserve it, I glow with the praise. It has been so long since someone has loved me. I frighten myself with the strength of my affection for him. It will make it that much worse when the curse at last comes for him. I try to steel my nerve against it, but I know I will never be ready, as I was not ready for any of my visions.  
  
At last, the day comes that I have been waiting for; dreading; praying would not arrive. I have my vision. It is awful, as the visions always are, but it does not, as I had half expected, foretell the destruction of the forest.  
  
No. This time, only Kibo is in danger, but that is quite bad enough. Today, this afternoon, a raging Nidoking will crash through the forest, train his hyper beam attack on my friend, then continue on, as if Kibo is nothing more than a small obstacle in his path.  
  
I remain in the place where I have slept, watching the forest with worried eyes. What if Kibo does not come today? What if I never have the chance to warn him; to say goodbye?  
  
But, just a little after midday, he appears from out of the brush. I watch him eagerly, happy and sad at the same time. Glad that I have been given this last time to be with him, sad that I shall never have that chance again.  
  
He smiles warmly as he drops his daily offering beside me. I smile back, my expression tinged with sorrow, and lick his cheek.  
  
Kibo is surprised. I have never before touched him, thinking it might make things worse when the curse finally took hold of him, but now I mourn the lost opportunities. I avoid his eyes as I bend to eat the Pidgey that is my meal today. It is probably the last meat I will ever taste.  
  
"Are you all right?" Kibo asks as I finish. "You seem terribly sad today."  
  
His kindness closes my throat and brings tears of sorrow to my eyes. "No," I say thickly. "I am not all right. Could you . . . will you stay with me today? Just until sunset." Perhaps, if he does not go off alone, his fate can be avoided.  
  
"Of course," Kibo says, and my tears run over. I lean my face into his thick, white ruff and sob, and he lets me. I had thought, after the Sneasels, that I had no more tears left in me, but now I find that I have enough to drown the forest in.  
  
After a time, my tears slow to sniffles, then finally to nothing, and I lower myself tiredly onto my belly.  
  
"There, there," Kibo says, settling himself comfortably beside me. "What's this all about?"  
  
I shake my head and do not answer. Perhaps, if I do not speak of it, his death may yet be averted.  
  
For a long time we lie quietly side - by - side, and as the sun sinks lower in the sky, I begin to think that maybe, just maybe, I have beaten the curse this time. By now, I ought to know better than that.  
  
All at once, a huge crashing echoes through the forest, and we both start to our feet. I run a few steps, then stop and look back, realizing that Kibo hasn't followed. He is staring into the woods, probably curious as to what might be making that noise. I already know.  
  
I turn to go back and urge him away, but at that moment, an enormous Nidoking bursts into the clearing. The hulking creature glances about, spots Kibo, and begins to charge up his attack.  
  
Kibo seems frozen in place, mesmerized; whether from fear or surprise, I'm not sure. And suddenly, a white-hot rage spreads across my mind.  
  
No! I will not let the curse have it's way this time. It has taken everything from me; family, friends, even my own love for life. I will not let it take Kibo, too.  
  
Just as the Nidoking unleashes his hyper beam, I speed across the clearing and knock Kibo out of the way. The beam lances toward me, hitting me in the side. But because I was moving so fast, the attack does not kill me. It only skims across me, tumbling me over and over until I fetch up near the base of a tree. I vaguely hear the Nidoking move off, his anger spent, as Kibo rushes to my side.  
  
"No!" I hear him cry. "Don't take another from me,please!" His parents, he has told me, both died from the same illness; a fever that washed over his pack, leaving few alive. We have much in common.  
  
"I am not dead," I manage to choke out. It hurts to move, hurts to breathe, hurts even to think, but inside I am rejoicing. Kibo is not dead! He is here, still, with me. My visions can be changed!  
  
"Thank goodness," Kibo says, touching his nose carefully to my cheek. "You must live, Sanji. I could not bear it if you left me."  
  
I will live. I know this as surely as I have ever known anything. It may not go very quickly, but my wounds will heal and everything will be well. 


	8. Freedom

So, you've made it to the last chapter (well, it's more like an epilogue, really). Congratulations! You deserve a round of applause. * claps * Thank you for reading my story. I hope you enjoyed it; and, as always, feedback is greatly appreciated. (Sorry for the confusion about not accepting anonymous reviews. I do. Believe me, I do. I need all the help I can get. I just missed that button before, but it's fixed now. Sorry again.)  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
It takes quite some time, but at last I do recover. As I mend, I tell Kibo about my visions; about my family and the Eevees and the Sneasels. I tell him what the Sneasel survivors said to me, that I thought the curse seemed to push me in certain directions, and how, before he came, all I wanted was to fade away.  
  
Kibo believes me; sympathizes with me. He even has some thoughts on my dreams.  
  
"I think," he says, "that the visions are not meant to be a curse, as you believe. I think they are meant to be warnings, like the warnings you give when I am about to walk unknowingly into something dangerous." He grins at me and I smile back, still hardly able to believe that he is still with me.  
  
"None of those things," he continues, "what you call your 'death visions', are things that anyone could control, not really. There have always been hunters, and Warblade, at least, must have been planning for months, even years. Long before you came. You couldn't possibly have been responsible."  
  
"Then why is it that I always end up where a disaster is about to take place?" I ask.  
  
"I think that is the push you feel, moving you in a certain direction. I think the visions direct you to where you should be, in order to warn those that the disaster is about to catch."  
  
I ponder his words for a long time, and at last decide that he is right. The terrible guilt that has plagued me for so long now falls away, and my limbs feel light and free. Nothing can erase the sorrow, or the horror, of the things I have seen, but these do not trouble me as they once did.  
  
After I am fully well, Kibo and I begin to travel, this time in the direction the visions wish me to go. I no longer call them my curse.  
  
Each time I receive a vision, I warn the people that it is about. Sometimes they listen, sometimes they do not. But even the failures are not quite so bad anymore, because now, hope is always with me. 


End file.
